59. My Relapse

On May 22nd, I made the crucial decision to check myself into a 28-day substance abuse treatment center.  This isn't my first experience with rehab—far from it.  Since my initial treatment in 2018, I've cycled through various rehabs for different reasons.  I’ve entered these programs to meet my family’s expectations, to appease friends, and even to satisfy a judge's orders.  What I’ve come to understand is that while anyone can enter treatment for a multitude of reasons, true and lasting recovery only begins when the decision to get clean is made by you for yourself.  The only time I’ve seen treatment truly take hold is when the addict or alcoholic genuinely wants to change their life for their own sake.

Among all my previous attempts at rehab, May 22nd stands out as the first time I sought treatment with the sole intention of improving my own life.  This time, I am committing to this journey not just to fulfill others' demands or expectations, but because I want to heal and build a better future for myself.

On May 22, I found myself parked at a gas station, hopelessly sitting in my car with a loaded needle and a pint of whiskey in the center console.  By then, I had been using alcohol and drugs for about a month straight, each day blending into the next.  That particular day, I had been using from the moment I woke up, trying to numb the overwhelming pain and confusion that had consumed me since losing my best friend to addiction earlier that month.  His death had turned my world upside down and dredged up emotions I hadn’t faced in a very long time.

I was deeply struggling and made the critical error of trying to navigate this turmoil on my own. Instead of reaching out to my support network and sharing what I was going through, I isolated myself, believing I could manage the darkness alone.  It was a mistake that only deepened my despair and made it clear that I needed help more than ever.  This moment marked a turning point for me, highlighting the critical importance of connection and support in overcoming the challenges of addiction.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am both an alcoholic and a drug addict.  There is no doubt in my mind, and I’m certain that those who know me personally would agree.  When I drink, I don’t do so casually; I use alcohol to escape, to alter my state, and once I start, I can’t stop until I either pass out or run out of supply.  Unlike those who can enjoy a single beer or a glass of wine and then simply put the can or bottle away, I am unable to have just one.  The concept of moderation is foreign to me.  People who don’t struggle with alcoholism can enjoy a drink and then move on with their lives, leaving the rest of the six-pack or bottle untouched, even if it’s within reach.  I deeply envy their ability to stop without obsession.  As a teenager, I fantasized about coming home from work, relaxing with a cold beer on my front porch, and savoring the moment as I watched the sunset.  But the reality is, I will never be able to enjoy that simple pleasure.  For me, the allure of a drink always leads to excess, and the fantasy of moderation is just that—a fantasy. I’ve accepted that my relationship with alcohol is fundamentally different, and I have to face that truth if I want to find a path to recovery.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what drove me to check myself into rehab this time.  Something shifted in my mind after I finished that last bag of heroin in my car, but the origin of that thought remains unclear.  I like to believe that my best friend, who had passed away, played a role in this decision. I imagine he was watching over me, seeing the depth of my pain and wanting something better for me.

At one point, I had nearly four years of sobriety, and during that time, I learned a great deal about myself.  I discovered that I use substances to escape from my own feelings and to avoid confronting my inner self.  Addiction is an incredibly powerful force, and I found that I become a person whom no one likes or trusts when I am using.  I’ve come to understand that when I start using, I cannot stop on my own.  I’ve tried every conceivable method to get clean by myself—restricting my use of certain substances or setting limits—but it always spirals back into full-blown addiction.

This cycle has taught me that I cannot break free on my own.  My attempts at controlling my addiction have only reinforced the need for external help.  It's clear now that I need support and guidance to overcome this.  This realization, along with the haunting memory of my friend, pushed me to seek help, understanding that this is the only way I can truly begin to heal and reclaim my life.

This is why staying vigilant in your sobriety is absolutely crucial. Maintaining sobriety demands immense effort and commitment.  It only takes one poor decision to throw everything off balance and find yourself back where you started—or even worse.  I’ve come to terms with the reality that I will always be an addict and alcoholic. Some days, accepting this is easier; other days, it’s a real struggle. Focusing on just today makes it more manageable, whereas thinking about not using for the rest of my life can feel overwhelming.  That’s why the adage to take it "one day at a time" is so vital.

Currently, I’m in a long-term residential treatment center in New York City, working diligently to understand myself better, develop healthy coping mechanisms, and identify what was missing in my recovery before this relapse.  The timeline for my return home is uncertain, but I'm not overly concerned about it.  When I feel ready to transition back, I’ll discuss it with my therapist and formulate a plan.  While I miss my family and friends deeply, I know I’m exactly where I need to be right now.

I’m looking forward to returning home and giving recovery another serious try.  Today marks 74 days of sobriety, and I feel better than I ever have before.  Writing this column again brings me a lot of joy. You might not realize it, but you play a huge role in my journey.  This platform is incredibly therapeutic for me, and your support fuels my recovery.  I am profoundly grateful for every reader and can’t thank you enough for being a part of this process.

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who wrote me letters and sent cards during my stay in rehab.  Your words of encouragement and support are a constant source of strength and comfort, and they played a significant role in my journey toward recovery.  Thank you for being there for me.

And remember, if you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope.  If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to spread awareness today.